The tales will follow an emotional theme, A = Able, B = Bold, C = Clever. A good story brings out this emotional premise. Remember, we connect to a story because of pity, identification, sentimentalism, suffering, struggle, or recovery. A story is a...
Welcome storylovers! Bobbie Kinkead HERE! Today's story is I like to tell because it is about the Storyteller.
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The bold troubadour is seductive and also brilliant. He is a chap of fancy, a dandy a trickster, well-behaved, and really quiet brave and bold.Some call him a rogue of charm and magic, or a minstrel with songs and stories. Some call him bane and brass, others call him a jester, while others a beggar or a bum. No matter to him, in his travels he has dined the best of kings and queens, the wealthiest and the poor. He has jokes and poems for the wealthiest or the regular folks depending on his mood.
Ahh, tonight, he wants a health, hearty home-cooked meal. As he travels on a country road atop his fine horse, he looks for basic folks to share stories and gossip, he wants to dine with the busy, hard-working country folk, who are not pretentious. The troubadour wants to be with beloved folks like his beginnings!
The Boundless Troubadour and His BOLD Trickery
The Troubadour plays his flute while his horse ambles through the wooded countryside. He moseys pass the King and Queen's castle. He had dined with royalty in far away lands, not tonight. "They will want stories and songs while they eat. Then as they tire my folly, they will offer me the kitchen, which will be cleaned for the morning meal and only the scraps left for the servants. Tonight I desire a simple, wholesome soup."
He moseys pass the richest of rich. He looks at the homes of the rich merchants, lawyers, and the governor where he might dine, not tonight. "They will want my stories and songs and offer me little food to eat while I entertain them. Tonight I desire the company, the songs, and the stories of comfortable, country folk."
He clinks the reins of his horse, "A traveler always makes the right turn." And just beyond he sees a small, white, one store house nestles between tall Oaks. He ambles by fields of gardens full of vegetable and flowers. He passes a well for water, then a well-kept barn with sheep, and cows and goats in the barnyard. Beyond in the field, he sees the farmer leading a strong horse plowing the ground. The earthly smell tingles the minstrel's nose. "Ah, I have a fire to warm and a bit of soup to make."
The Troubadour ties his horse to the clean picket fence. He feasts on the spring flowers of many colors. He pinches the lavender, rosemary, and sage as he walks on the stone path. "The good labors from the kindly farmer's wife." He picks up three stones on his way to the door.
He stands by the carved wooden door. "Knock, Knock, Knock."
"Scrrreee ee ch!" The lady with a kind face, aged by the years of work in her kitchen and garden, spies at him. As she looks him, "Who are you and where are you from?"
